"For humble was their love--with awe And trembling like some treasure kept, That was not theirs by holy law-- Whose beauty with remorse they saw, And o'er whose preciousness they wept. Humility, that low, sweet root, From which all heavenly virtues shoot, Was in the hearts of both--but most In Nama's heart, by whom alone Those charms, for which a heaven was lost, Seem'd all unvalued and unknown; And when her Seraph's eyes she caught, And hid hers glowing on his breast, Even bliss was humbled by the thought-- 'What claim have I to be so blest?' Still less could maid, so meek, have nursed Desire of knowledge--that vain thirst, With which the sex hath all been cursed, From luckless Eve to her, who near The Tabernacle stole to hear The secrets of the angels: no-- To love as her own Seraph loved, With Faith, the same through bliss and woe Faith, that, were even its light removed, Could, like the dial, fix'd remain, And wait till it shone out again;-- With Patience that, though often bow'd By the rude storm, can rise anew; And Hope that, ev'n from Evil's cloud, Sees sunny Good half breaking through! This deep, relying Love, worth more In heaven than all a Cherub's lore-- This Faith, more sure than aught beside, Was the sole joy, ambition, pride Of her fond heart--th' unreasoning scope Of all its views, above, below-- So true she felt it that to _hope_, To _trust_, is happier than to _know_. "And thus in humbleness they trod, Abash'd, but pure before their God; Nor e'er did earth behold a sight So meekly beautiful as they, When, with the altar's holy light Full on their brows, they knelt to pray, Hand within hand, and side by side. Two links of love, awhile untied From the great chain above, but fast Holding together to the last! Two fallen Splendours, from that tree, Which buds with such eternally, Shaken to earth, yet keeping all Their light and freshness in the fall.